Relucant Father
by Sanfina
Summary: Dracule Mihawk, a man feared by many and on friendly terms with few, finds a basket on his doorstep. Considering it a bomb, he's surprised, and perhaps disappointed, instead to discover a green-haired baby with no problem of looking him straight in the eye. Well, he was never one to back down from a challenge. Daddy!Mihawk with son!Zoro fic. Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Yes, another daddy!Mihawk/son!Zoro fic, but I love them so I decided to try one out for myself.

I regret to inform you that I'm one of those authors who update randomly; only when I have time and feel confident about my work (takes longer than it should, but I refuse to post or show anything I'm not proud of).

Thank you! Please enjoy.

**-OoO-**

Dracule "Hawk-Eyes" Mihawk frowned. Who the hell would be knocking at his door this late? It was nearing five in the morning and he hardly ever received company during normal daytime hours. He slid to his feet – he had been meditating, cross-legged position – and walked to the door. He opened it, but no one was there. He narrowed his golden eyes. No one would be idiotic enough to toy with him, unless it was a certain redhead. Yet he thought that moron would be passed out drunk by now.

He heard a rustle close to his feet and automatically looked down. His frown deepened. A basket wrapped in a green blanket? Did he just get a _gift_? At this odd time? Or maybe it was a bomb, considering his current job. But then the blanket moved and Mihawk tensed, his guard rising. He reached for the crucifix pendant around his throat, flashing out his dagger, and, making sure the weapon was aimed towards the middle of the basket with his right hand, grasped the blanket between his slim fingers. He flipped it off a heartbeat later, but was astonished to see what he found.

A baby. A freaking baby.

What the hell was a baby in a basket doing on his doorstep? He stared at it and it stared back at him, brown eyes round with curiosity. It noticed the dagger in Mihawk's clutch and opened its mouth in slight amazement, chubby arms flailing towards the object.

Mihawk scowled, not pleased. He sheathed his dagger and inspected the baby. It was an odd one, that was for sure. It had green – yes, _green_ – hair and dark eyes. It was studying him back, which Mihawk found odd. He then caught sight of an envelope resting in the baby's lap and he snatched it, making sure not to touch the cooing infant.

_Mihawk-san, please take of my child. His name is Roronoa Zoro and he is nine months old. Thank you so much._

Mihawk reread the letter twice. There was no way in the world that someone was actually asking him to do such a thing. First off, he didn't _do_ kids. Anyone who knew him – and this woman clearly did, as the letter was addressed to him for pity's sake – knew that. Their screaming made him want to slice walls and destroy towns. Secondly he had no idea who the mother was, so why the holy hell would he raise a brat that wasn't his or didn't know?

He looked from the letter to the baby, who glared back rather challengingly at him. Mihawk felt a spike of amusement. Not many could meet his gaze, he knew, and for a brat to do something an adult couldn't impressed the man. "Roronoa Zoro, huh?" Mihawk thought aloud. "What am I going to do with you?"

Mihawk wasn't a heartless man. He felt for the kid, yeah, but that didn't mean he wanted to take him under his roof. He had no idea how to care for a baby and he didn't even _want_ to care for one. He wasn't trustworthy enough to be a guardian, his jobs sometimes taking him away for months at a time. He sighed. Might as well bring the kid inside.

**-OoO-**

"BAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Mihawk felt his patience waning. His 'friend' was beside him, laughing his lungs out, as Mihawk concluded telling him what had happened.

"S-so-someone t-truly gave y-y-you their k-ki-kid?" Shanks spluttered. "Y-_you_?"

"I am not lying," Mihawk hissed. He shoved the letter into the redhead's hands. "Read it."

Shanks grinned, but obeyed. His eyes widened when he finished. "Wow. You're seriously telling the truth. Who the hell is dumb enough to freely hand their kid to _you_? You're hella scary, man." He ignored Mihawk's dark aura as he looked around. "So? Where is the brat?" Mihawk pointed to the basket resting on the kitchen counter. Shanks skipped to it, and paused when he looked into it. "Out of all the babies in the world, you get a green-haired one. You just attract weirdo's, don't you?"

Mihawk glowered. "Including you."

Shanks laughed. "I deserved that. Anyway, what are you going to do? You can't take care of a kid. I mean, you're…you."

"I'm not sure," Mihawk admitted. "I can't just throw Roronoa out into the street, but I don't exactly know any snuggly, warm-hearted people willing to adopt." He looked at his friend. "What about you?"

Shanks shrugged. "Not me. The only person I know is Makino and she already has three boys, so I doubt she'll want another."

"Then why are you here again?" the golden-eyed man scoffed.

Another shrug. "It's fun messing with you."

"_Leave_."

Shanks smiled. "C'mon, pal! Let's brainstorm." He hooked his arm around Mihawk's neck, who stiffened but allowed the limb to stay. "Option one: you merely throw the kid back out in the street and hope someone picks him up so you don't have to worry about it." He blinked. "You already said you didn't like that idea, so we'll ignore one for now. Option two: you find someone to care for the kid instead. Neither one of us know any…reliable…people, so that's a pretty useless idea. And," he let out a loud guffaw, "option three: you bring up the kid yourself."

Mihawk frowned. All those options were terrible.

"Option three…ha! I bet you don't even know how to hold a baby."

He twitched, knowing his shouldn't fall to the bait, but… "I can, too."

"Oh?" Shanks raised his red eyebrows, openly calling him out on his lie. "Go on, then. Prove it."

Mihawk glared at his companion. "I will." He leaned over and scooped the baby quickly into his arms, making sure not to think too hard. Immediately Zoro squirmed, uncomfortable, and so was Mihawk. Shanks burst into laughter, slapping his knees. Mihawk snarled, "Damn you, Redhair!" He almost dropped the child and he cursed, grabbing his legs at the last second. Zoro shrieked, causing the man to flinch. So damn loud.

"Damn _me_?" Shanks's eyes twinkled. "_I_ didn't do anything; you're the one who picked him up. Here," the redhead held out his hands, "give him to me. I'll show you how it's done, Hawkie." Dracule Mihawk, the man known (and even feared) for his severe and ruthless attitude, practically snorted. "What? I only dropped Luffy the first few times. I got it down now."

Mihawk looked from Shanks to Zoro, whose face was turning red from being upside down for so long. The baby blinked at him, weirdly content with his position. "You're an idiot, you know that?" Mihawk told rather than asked his friend. He shoved Zoro to Shanks, who scrambled at first but promptly settled him a soft grip.

Shanks beamed. "Told ya." Mihawk studied the redhead's posture with sharp, indecipherable eyes. "Makino drilled into me how to hold Luffy so I'm a pro now." Zoro looked at Shanks, glaring. He leaned away from him, somehow with a grimace. "What's up with the brat, Hawk?"

"Why are you asking me?" Mihawk felt a headache forming. He rubbed his temple. "I don't know kids."

Zoro scowled, looking around until he made eye contact with Mihawk. He held out his arms to the man, speaking baby rubbish. Every few seconds he would send a sour glance to Shanks, as if he couldn't believe the redhead actually had the audacity to hold him.

Shanks was evidently surprised. "He doesn't like me. What the hell? Kids _love_ me!"

Mihawk let out a low chuckle. "He's not stupid." But he didn't take the baby; instead he watched his actions. Zoro was grumbling but not crying. It was more of a loud complaint than outright howl, and it was pretty obvious that he wasn't thrilled. So he wasn't a crying child, which sent a stab of appreciation to Mihawk. The shriek earlier had been from surprise, and he hadn't shrieked since. _That_ made Mihawk thoughtful.

"Listen, you brat," Shanks was lecturing the baby. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I'm great. And you're being dumb." Zoro mumbled more nonsense and ended up sticking his chin the other way, striking the redhead momentarily speechless.

Mihawk was beginning to like this kid.

But did that mean he wanted to raise the baby himself? He was undependable, impatient, selfish. A rather bad combination for a guardian.

"Oh, no."

Mihawk turned his attention back towards his friend. "What?"

"You can't be freaking serious.

"What?"

"I can't believe you."

"_What_?" he snapped.

"You're thinking of keeping the brat."

Mihawk scowled at the redhead. "Why the hell do you think that?"

Shanks rolled his eyes. He ignored the grumbling baby as he switched him awkwardly to his hip. "Seriously? You may not think it, but we can read each other, Hawkie. You're looking at the brat differently." Shanks sniffed at the kid, who was still leaning away with his nose scrunched. "He's just a brat. Go drop him off at a church or something. I'm sure he'll make a few nuns happy." Zoro, as if he knew he was being talked about, jabbed his fingers into Shanks's open throat and insulted the redhead – well, as much as baby gibberish could insult.

Mihawk blinked. Why hadn't he thought of that? Everyone knew you could leave an unwanted or unplanned child at a hospital or church, no questions asked. He could be on his way in a couple minutes and be rid of this nuisance in several hours. He opened his mouth to agree (for once) with Shanks, but nothing came out. What the hell?

For some reason, Mihawk felt reluctant, which shocked him more than anything. He actually wanted to keep the kid? What was _wrong_ with him? He looked at the green-haired brat, who was having a poking war with the redheaded idiot. Zoro had surprised him a few times – making eye contact, enthused when he saw a dagger, his disliking of Shanks – but had that really been enough for him to like the baby? Damn, he didn't like anyone. For some unknown reason, he tolerated Shanks, even though the moron dragged him into more messy situations than he could count. He preferred silence, thick and heavy, as his companion, but rarely was gifted it.

"You little fu–"

In a flash, Mihawk went over and plucked Zoro from the irritated Shanks, who had been a hair's breath away from dropping the child on purpose. There were pink spots around his neck and collar, no doubt from Zoro's tiny fingers. Zoro had let out a small gasp, not another shriek, but didn't fight back and allowed Mihawk to place him on his shoulder. "So, Roronoa," the man looked at Zoro evenly, equally, "how would you like to stay here?"

Zoro nodded while Shanks stuttered. "W-what? _You_, Dracule Mihawk, actually want to adopt this brat?"

The green-haired baby turned his head in a snap to the redhead. He pointed his finger at him and scowled. Mihawk nodded. "I know, he's an idiot. He comes around here begging for scraps every now and then, so you'll be seeing more of him, sadly."

"H-hey!"

Mihawk ignored the outburst. "Welcome to my house, Zoro."

**-OoO-**

"You're really going to go through with this?"

Zoro was back in his basket, sleeping, and Shanks had grabbed a couple of glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Mihawk was too use to Shanks making himself comfortable at his house to comment anything; he merely held out his glass and waited as Shanks sloppily poured. "With what?" He undoubtedly knew what his friend meant, but it was never too late to test his stupidity.

Shanks, after a large gulp, gave Mihawk an "are-you-an-idiot" look. "With Zoro. You're actually going to raise him?"

"Yes."

Shanks sighed. "You sure you're not the reckless one?" He swished the whiskey in his glass, as if he was sulking. "You suck, Hawk."

"I don't understand why you're upset." Mihawk drained half his glass. He raised a slick eyebrow, lifting his glass for another swallow. "It's not as if you're going to raise the child."

Shanks puffed out his cheeks. "Yeah, but now you're a daddy."

Mihawk choked. He slammed his drink down, very nearly shattering the fragile glass, as he shot daggers at the redhead's bizarre, ridiculous statement. "W-what the hell is _wrong_ with you, Redhair?"

"Me?" Shanks demanded. He jumped to his feet and pointedly crossly at the basket on the other side of the kitchen. "You just took in a brat and there's something wrong with _me_?"

"Relax," Mihawk ordered, already back to his composed self.

Shanks studied him. "You reacted pretty strongly, Hawkie…" he moronically stroked a beard that didn't exist. "Oh!" He snapped his fingers. "Was it the daddy comment?" Mihawk paled and Shanks smirked. "Oooh," he sang, "you never considered that you'd be a father, eh? How slow of you, Hawk."

Mihawk scowled. "Shut up." He frowned when he realized his glass was empty. "More whiskey."

Shanks rolled his eyes, but complied. "You know, you need to get baby stuff."

"Obviously."

"Well…where do you get it all?"

"That's where you come in, you idiot."

"Me?" Shanks sat back down, crossing his legs as his lips thinned with confusion. "What am I supposed to do?"

"That woman," Mihawk pointed out tolerantly. "You said she had kids. Call her and ask where she gets her items."

"Who?"

Mihawk massaged the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Makino." Sometimes he wondered for his friend's stability, but then that would make him question his own considering he allowed the redhead in his company far too often.

"Oh!" A loud slurp of whiskey, followed by a hiccup. "I can do that for you."

**-OoO-**

Thanks for reading! Until next time.

-Sanfina.


	2. Chapter 2

I know. I know. Almost TWO YEARS for a freaking update. I'm the worst. I'll try to explain my nonexistence, but first...

Enjoy.

**-OoO-**

Mihawk considered himself a man of control and discipline. He was the strongest swordsman in the world, after all, and you didn't earn that by pure luck. He trained and worked and bled for that title—_his_ title—and was confident in all of his abilities. He could cut a mountain in half with a simple sweep of his treasured sword, Yoru, and keep his cool even under the worst of occasions. He had faced countless enemies, trials, and tests, and was always victorious. He was a warrior, through and through.

However, this warrior was fighting the urge to run away and not look back. He heard himself gulp, and would've been disgusted with himself if he wasn't so afraid.

So what, possibly, could be frightening enough to terrify even the world's strongest swordsman?

That's right.

Diapers.

**-OoO-**

"Are you sure?"

"_How many times do I have to say it, Hawk_?" Shanks's voice was a whine. Mihawk could practically hear the eye roll in his friend's tone. "_Yes, come on by now. Makino is closing early tonight, and she agreed to help with all the baby crap you need for the grass-head. She says she has plenty to spare for you_."

Mihawk didn't bother replying; he ended the call with a brisk tap of his long fingers and tucked his cell back into his pocket. For a moment he remained where he was, sitting at his small kitchen table, before draining the last of his drink and standing to his feet. He placed the wine glass in the sink and hid the half-full bottle of red wine (he found out the hard way to hide his best alcohol, as Shanks held no restrictions), and then strode from his small kitchen to larger living room.

He stopped at the couch, where his new charge lay. The boy was asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. His hands were above his head, stretching the white-onesie he wore across his plump stomach. Mihawk watched him for several long moments, pondering. He was no expert, of course, but weren't young babies supposed to wake up every few hours to feed? Zoro had been sleeping since late morning, and now the afternoon was turning into early evening.

Mihawk made a mental note to ask the woman, Makino, about it, as he gingerly picked up Zoro and placed him in his basket. He looked around one last time, a habit as well as comfort to check his environment to ensure everything was in order, and then sauntered out the door.

**-OoO-**

The bar was worn and dingy, but even Dracule Mihawk, a man known to be cold and soulless, could feel the friendly, comforting atmosphere as he entered. It was empty of guests; a surprising fact if he hadn't known that it had been closed early. What _was_ surprising, however, was that there wasn't an adult at the bar's counter, but two children.

They were boys and looked strikingly different. One was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and had a sprinkle of freckles across his thin nose. His lips were curved into a frown as he sat on top of the counter, shoulders hunched and angry as he looked to see who arrived. The second looked far more relaxed and carefree as he spun in a circle on a bar stool, small tuffs of blonde hair poking out of his shabby top hat. He didn't stop his whirling, but craned his neck to also view the visitor.

Neither greeted Mihawk, but both boys studied him. One with open hostility and distrust, the other guarded yet curious. Mihawk remained silent as well as he walked to the counter and settled two stools away from the boys, swinging the basket holding a still-sleeping Zoro onto the counter casually.

Several seconds of tense silence passed before the dark-haired child burst onto his feet. "Who the hell are you? We're closed, dumbass!" He pointed a grimy finger.

Mihawk turned his full, heavy gaze to the boys. They reacted similarly; Blondie joined Freckles into standing onto the counter like barbarian children, their feet spread out and fists brought up. As if they were about to fight him, the world's strongest swordsman.

Amused, Mihawk merely cocked an eyebrow at them before turning away. He wasn't interested in battling two pathetic boys, of course. Sometimes he hunted after weaklings that got in his way on a job, but definitely not kids. They provided no challenge or entertainment. They couldn't be older than four at most. Their wills reminded him vaguely of Zoro's, and he pondered mildly about the upcoming generation. Many resolute, determined children. It was intriguing to imagine the future and what roles they would play in it.

**-OoO-**

"Oi! You idiots, that's Hawk!"

The boys were each knocked into the ground from a steaming punch. Mihawk raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Surely that was overboard, Shanks," he drawled.

Shanks grinned. "Nah, I do this to them all the time!" He threw the blonde over his shoulder and lifted the other one under his arm. "They're brats, but good brats. Come on, come on! You got to meet Makino and Luffy."

Instinctively bringing the basket with him, Mihawk followed Shanks up the stairs and into a small living room connected with an even smaller kitchen. The living room was lightly furnished with a shabby couch, a pathetic television resting on a crooked table missing its fourth leg, and piles of books hugging random parts of the walls, which framed handfuls of pictures. The kitchen was meager, with a stained oven and microwave, and ridiculously thin refrigerator. A dark-haired woman stood in front of the stove, stirring something that smelled like well-cooked curry. She looked up as they walked in, Shanks first with one dazed boy still on his shoulder and the second under his arm nonchalantly, and Mihawk immediately behind. Makino smiled at the redhead, before flicking her coffee-warm brown eyes to him.

"You must be Mihawk-san," she greeted. "I'm Makino. I would shake your hand, but," she gestured towards her hands, which were sullied red from spices, "I wouldn't want to get you dirty. I'm just preparing dinner if you would like to join us."

"Appreciated, but I must decline. I don't plan to stay for long."

Makino's smile remained gentle. "I understand."

**-OoO-**

Four hours and a satisfying meal later, Mihawk frowned. "Are you certain all of this is required?"

Makino nodded, as stern as her kind face could be. "Definitely."

What seemed like a peak of objects and belongings towered before them. Mihawk's keen eyes caught sight of everything – a crib, a changing table, an endless amount of boxed diapers, bottles, formula, clothing, blankets, and outrageously colored toys – and inwardly cringed. He felt a flare of insecurity, which he quickly squashed, and straightened his shoulders. He was a man of action and decision, not a fickle weakling who went back on his word. He would raise Zoro, preposterous toys be included or not.

He made a mental note, however, to slice and dice any and all annoying ones.

"Oi! Hawk!"

Mihawk turned and immediately braced himself. Shanks had a suspicious gleam in his eye, and his grin was too smug to be comfortable. The two older boys, Ace and Sabo, were hanging from his back, elbowing him several times in the face as they wrestled with each other. Makino had innocently pushed them to introduce themselves at the table during supper. Luffy had been put down for a late nap when they had first arrived and was still asleep, so Mihawk hadn't met the youngest boy yet. "What, Redhair?"

"Your brat is awake." Okay, that wasn't a bad thing. Makino had indeed told him Zoro's sleeping routine was abnormal. Mihawk actually felt a surprising prickle of relief. "And he smells like he crapped himself. Good luck, friend."

For a second there, Mihawk didn't understand. Why was Shanks thumping his back and wishing him luck? Zoro could easily just go to the bathroom and handle—wait.

Wait. A. Damn. Moment.

Zoro was a baby. A nine months-old baby. As in, he couldn't go to the bathroom himself. Couldn't help himself. Had to rely on someone to change him. As in change his soiled…soiled…

Where was the nearest hospital or church again? Mihawk was mentally mapping the area when he heard Zoro let out a quiet, disgruntled cry. Damn, did it tug at his chest.

The world's strongest swordsman barely noticed his feet moving until he stood before Zoro, awfully and unusually unsure. Zoro was crying and grumbling, obviously uncomfortable, as he rubbed his grubby fists against his eyes. A repulsive odor hit Mihawk and his nose crinkled. The reek was sadly familiar to him, only because the majority of his past targets released their bowels in fear as he killed them.

Zoro immediately noticed Mihawk and made grabby motions with his hands, impatient. Slightly amused at the boy's irked glare, Mihawk half complied by indeed picking him up but held him away in the air. Mihawk paused.

Now what?

He heard a cough from behind and turned, Zoro still up and away from him, to see Makino. "Here, now is a good time to show you how to use the changing table," she said, her voice soft. She indicated for him to follow and, after a second suspension of waiting, he did.

**-OoO-**

Now here he was, staring at his charge. Mihawk had awkwardly slipped off the boy's onesie, so Zoro only lay in his soiled diaper. Zoro stared back, as challenging as the first time. His arms were crossed over his chest, as if daring Mihawk to walk away. He only babbled baby nonsense, but Mihawk had a gut instinct that Zoro was mocking him for his timidity.

It was that fact alone that kept him from fleeing. The damn boy's will was as stubborn as his own.

"Shall I assist you, Mihawk-san?" Makino asked. Her tone was light and friendly, like she truly wanted to help.

He opened his mouth to consent to her proposal (don't look at him like that! He was a killer, damn it! He's never changed a diaper in his life) when—"I'd love to see the day Hawkie accepts help from anyone! Ha!" Mihawk gritted his teeth. "Wait! Wait! No way, Hawk! You were seriously about to accept Makino's offer?" A terrible, pregnant silence and then, as Mihawk grimly predicted, a sordidly loud burst of laughter. Even Ace and Sabo were grinning. "BAHAHAHA! Dracule "Hawk-Eyes" Mihawk actually needs help changing a brat's diaper! Oh, hell, this is the greatest day of my life!" Shanks clutched his stomach, tears pooling the corner of his eye, nearly flipping the two boys from his back into the air.

He stormed to the doorway. "Shut the hell up, Redhair," he hissed, and slammed the door shut to an annoying Shanks and amused Makino. He heard a yelp from the other side and smirked. _Hope that broke your damn nose, you bastard_, he thought viciously. He marched back to Zoro, who was still prattling away, and barked, "You shut the hell up, too, Roronoa Zoro, or I'll hang you from the ceiling by your toes." Zoro's brown eyes narrowed, but he let out a single baby huff and griped no more. "Good boy. Now," he let loose a breath of his own, "how shall we start?"

**-OoO-**

Nine minutes later, and Mihawk had discovered enough to at least remove the diaper. He had first tried tugging it down like you did with underwear or boxers, but from its refusal to budge and Zoro's squirming, Mihawk assumed that was the incorrect way. He spent the next several minutes trying to loosen a waistband that denied to loosen until he noticed two little snap pieces on either side of Zoro's hips. Feeling foolish, he unsnapped the bands and easily tossed aside the filthy diaper. Used to blood and grime, wiping Zoro clean was the easiest thing to do. He was perhaps too rough, but the boy didn't complain, so Mihawk finished and threw away the dirty wipes with little thought.

He held the new diaper out and froze.

…

What the hell should he do now? Was he supposed to snap the bands together to form the actual diaper before he slipped it over the boy's legs? Or do it around the brat? This was hell. He'd rather be facing down an army than struggling with this absurdity.

"How senseless," Mihawk muttered to himself, fingers fumbling with the blasted diaper. Zoro must've sensed his irritation and actually giggled, the freaking brat. He turned his hard gaze to Zoro, but that just made the baby giggle harder. "Oh, you find this funny, do you, Roronoa Zoro? Well, how do you feel about _this_?" He poked Zoro's chubby belly with a spidery finger. Zoro immediately squealed and tried to twist away, his chortle melting into a whine. A scowl marred his face as he showed his displeasure to Mihawk. "So you don't like being tickled, it seems. Well—I—don't—like—being—laughed—at," he said as he poked the boy with each word. Zoro couldn't help but gasp and laugh with each touch, as sensitive to tickling as any child, even though he was clearly annoyed with the sensation. Mihawk laughed at the baby's disgruntled look. "That'll teach you a lesson, little one. Let's finish this and put it behind us."

**-OoO-**

It took him twice as long to figure out how to properly put on a diaper, but he finally got it. (Did you expect any less from the world's strongest swordsman? He had killed hundreds, if not thousands. A little diaper changing would never be a _true_ challenge for _him_.) If he ever got the chance, however, he would go to the person who created such a difficult invention and cut them in half for not making it simpler.

"I did pretty well," he told Zoro, contented. Zoro gave him a 'not-really' expression, which Mihawk ignored as he picked up the boy and rested him against his side. "Let us go check on the idiot and his companions, and then go home. There is too much noise here." Zoro relaxed his green-haired head against Mihawk's shoulder and sighed, as if he agreed with Mihawk.

**-OoO-**

I really hope you all thought it was worth the wait! Next chapter Zoro will meet Luffy face to face. What do you think will happen?

(ALSO: I'm sure there are quite a few mistakes and OOC-ness. I have no editor of any kind besides me, myself, and I. So don't skewer me alive for any flaws you find, haha. I read it a billion and one times, and still find a grammar or spelling error every freaking time.)

Now…for my semi-explanation of absence.

I lost myself, is the best way I can put it through words. My grandmother died from ALS, my (now ex-) boyfriend of several years broke up with me, my cousin and best friend moved away, I got two new jobs, a new place, started college again, and had no time for myself to mourn for anything (family death, break up, cousin leaving, et cetera). I couldn't write, couldn't read, couldn't do anything besides work and breathe. I couldn't sleep for months without medication. I was absurdly lonely and tired all the time.

I just wasn't me anymore. Please believe I tried, truthfully, to write. But I would get frustrated within minutes and hate everything I wrote. I wasn't satisfied with a single sentence.

I'm feeling way better. I'm still not where I used to be, mentally and emotionally, but I'm getting closer every day.

I always thought of this story. I would get emails and notifications from people who have followed, favorited, or reviewed. And I have to tell you all, thank you. Thank you so much for the support. It is so incredible and I'm undeniably grateful. I already have the next chapter a quarter written, so…hopefully…the next update won't take two years, haha.

Thanks for reading (and understanding)! Until next time.

-Sanfina


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